


spreepark

by templeofshame



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, John Green references, M/M, References to anxiety, abandoned amusement park, set before tatinof berlin, urbex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 06:56:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14929380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templeofshame/pseuds/templeofshame
Summary: Reclaiming the spirit of adventure in an abandoned amusement park.Or, the Berlin urbex fic no one asked for.(I have no reason to believe that Dan and/or Phil have ever broken German law.)





	spreepark

**Author's Note:**

> The vlogbrothers video is [The Abandoned Ferris Wheel Spins Anyway](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8tH_i47E-U&ab_channel=vlogbrothers), fyi.
> 
> All thanks and love to @[waveydnp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/pseuds/waveydnp) for some quality betaing and a lot of moral support, always.

“We’re too clumsy for this.” It should be a whispered lament, or realization, but really it’s just a fact. Dan and Phil, famously uncoordinated, should not be trusted anywhere near rusted out theme park rides, or even, in this moment, substantial underbrush at tripping height. 

Phil doesn’t look at Dan, just pushes past an aggressively tall weed and heads toward a pair of vaguely feline eyes that dare them to approach. Even from a distance, it’s clear what it is, with tracks emerging from its mouth in loops that might be entirely rust.

Dan notices Phil eying the tracks. “Don’t even—” His volume has crept up, louder than it should be, but Dan catches himself.

“I’ve more self-control than that.” Phil moves his gaze back to Dan, hair wild, coat dirty, expression fond. He’s silhouetted against the path that leads back to the center of the park. So familiar, and yet, he hasn’t seen the spirit of adventure like that in ages. Not in Dan, or in himself. 

But they’ve made it here, to this hauntingly beautiful place, so it must be there. He’s having an adventure. Right now. He pushed to come here. He wants to feel it fully, to cling to the moments they have here before it’s back to a different kind of adrenaline, an adventure that exists to be shared with millions of people in one way or another. Not like this one, just for them.

But there are so many fears to pull him away from the moment, to try to take this from him. People have been caught here before, he tries not to think. Could they get deported from Germany? Before the show? It would make a decent Youtube video if he wasn’t bothered about the money, and the hassle. And the fans would be so disappointed.

Dan shoves his arm. “Be here while we’re here,” he whispers, an invitation with a hint of playful scold. It’s not like Dan’s not worried, Phil knows that. Knows how his mind spirals out of control, how hard he fights to stay grounded. He’s probably thought of worse than deportation, and he’s still here. He’s still grabbing Phil’s hand, pulling him towards the coaster whose track they can’t climb on, but they can look. 

They can’t afford to get injured, or deported. Maybe they could get caught, but with only some very rusty German and no Marianne around to dig them out, they might not have time even if they’d be let off the hook. How fast could she get here? Fast, he thinks. Right? He turns to Dan to ask, but he’s caught by the look on Dan’s face. He’s at once far away, lost in his own mind, and laser-focused on Phil.

“You know what I’m thinking?” 

Phil knows. He can read that look. But that doesn’t mean he wants to say it. Phil can pretend that focus isn’t for him. Dan could be thinking of… the video that had introduced him to this place. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about John Green.”

“Phi-il,” Dan whines, high-pitched even at low volume, rolling his eyes and dripping fondness. “I am not thinking about John Green. I am thinking about our scariest fucking date!”

Phil’s first reaction is to grin. He hadn’t been scared that day, he’d known his way around the hospital and for all the snow, it hadn’t been slippery where it mattered. It had been his place, a place he could share with Dan that wasn’t his parents’. Not at all like breaking the law in a foreign country, with call times and sprained ankles and guards to worry about. Suddenly just being here feels irresponsible, in the good ways and the bad. “Before now?” Phil tries to make it sound like banter, but he wants to know. How scared is Dan? 

“Nope. I’m more certain we won’t die here, but mostly, I’m more certain you’re real, your parents don’t hate me, and this is an actual thing that is my life.” Dan reaches out, traces fingers along Phil’s cheek, maybe clumsier for the gloves but no less intimate. It’s something he can’t often do in the open air, with sunlight on their skin and wind clawing at their coats. But if anyone can see them now, they have larger problems to worry about. “But the chance that I’d slip and break my neck was part of the appeal, back then. Then I’d die before you got tired of me.”

“Still will,” Phil murmurs, leaning closer. “But you could’ve been thinking about John Green even then. Who knows how many Youtubers you were stalking?”

Dan scoffs. “He hadn’t posted any of that stuff yet. We beat him to abandoned hospitals, even though he got here first.”

Here. Because they’re not in a memory, they’re in the present, together, in this eerie overgrown theme park he’s been dying to see. Phil looks away from the coaster’s menacing stare, toward the creaky ferris wheel, slowly spinning in the brisk November wind. There’s always a wheel. The Manchester Eye is gone, and yet somehow this one still spins, long after its country is gone. They can’t post photos, but Phil tugs a glove off to take one just for them, of Dan all bundled up and gazing at the wheel. There’s a sort of wonder in it, even in just the sliver of visible face, that says more about adventure than a stunt pose could.

“It. Goes. On,” Dan whispers.

“Yeah?”

“That’s what John said. You know, John Green, my YouTube crush.”

Phil bats at Dan’s shoulder. He should probably mind that his glove’s still off, but he doesn’t. “Did he mention that it wants to eat your soul?” The metallic screech of the rusted wheel wouldn’t be out of place on the Outlast soundtrack.

“Mine? Doubt it. You’ve got a nice soul on you, mate.”

“But the wheel likes its souls dark!” Phil insists.

They’re headed toward it now, Phil’s anxieties drowned out—for the moment—by whispered bants, the wheel’s wailing, and the crackling of brush underfoot. Once they fall into their rhythm, the adrenaline feels different; it’s supposed to be there, same as when Dan wore a ridiculous furry hat and Phil didn’t know if he could keep his heart in his chest. But it’s the kind that keeps him here, alert, in the moment of adventure. Back then, he knew the place but worried about what was coming, about the words he couldn’t keep in. But here, with slow steps and vigilant ears, the adventure is this forbidden place, and Dan? Dan is home. Phil can breathe both in, be immersed in another crazy thing they’re doing together.

Until another sound, further away, cuts sharply through the air. A bark.

Phil’s face snaps immediately to the sound. The way his body tenses yells “Dog!” even without a sound. But the sound does come. “Dan! There’s a dog!” he whispers, tapping excitedly at Dan’s arm. It’s the kind of silly thing he’d do for the camera, but it’s instinctual at this point. 

Dan is frozen beside him, voice so low Phil couldn’t make out words if he were any further away. “A guard dog. Ready to be all ‘hi mister, mind if I arrest you?’”

Spirit of adventure or not, guard dogs were a common theme online, and only some of those people got caught, but… some of those people got caught. Phil can imagine Marianne’s face framed in the window of a Berlin police station. He doesn’t want to see it for real. So he turns his back to the direction of the bark, brushing shoulders as Dan does the same. 

“Do we run?” Phil whispers, slipping his fingers between Dan’s gloved ones. That’s probably not the best way to run, but it’s comfort he might need. Calm isn’t possible in this situation, but Phil feels grounded in the way their fingers press together, his cold skin seeking warmth in Dan’s fleece. “Or scramble?” The ground’s no good for running and definitely not for running quietly, but Phil has a pretty good idea of where they came in, and he has a (more cautious) Dan. They’ve got this.

**Author's Note:**

> I mostly live on [tumblr](http://templeofshame.tumblr.com/) if you wanna say hi.
> 
> Here are some [Spreepark photos](http://www.spiegel.de/fotostrecke/abandoned-berlin-amusement-park-has-an-uncertain-future-fotostrecke-101400.html); by 2016, the legal tours were over, so it's weird to see the ones with lots of people in them.


End file.
